


For Thy Affection

by unboundpen



Category: Anita Blake: Vampire Hunter - Laurell K. Hamilton, Batman (Comics)
Genre: Anita Blake verse, F/M, M/M, Multi, Preternatural community
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-08-04
Updated: 2013-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-22 09:50:01
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/911805
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/unboundpen/pseuds/unboundpen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Batfam in the world of Anita Blake. A world where the supernatural coexists with humans and specific laws are placed to justify the deaths that have been going on. The Batfam, however, is heavily reliant on the vampire power in Gotham. Bruce Wayne is dubbed as the Master of the City, while his son is a live miracle and a mystery within the vampire community.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> So as stated in the summary, I'll be using the Anita Blake universe, but I will also do my own take in regards to Damian, considering that all the books in the AB series has never mentioned someone like Damian. Or in this case, being the son of two old and powerful vampires.

Companionship is all that Damian had longed for within the confines of his old home. His mother, Talia Al Ghul, was one of the most feared women on the eastern side of the world. Ra’s Al Ghul was no better with his agenda to clean up the world of despicable crime that stained the earth. Both were always busy with that mission, one of which would be placed upon his shoulders should the need arise. Being part of the high council -dubbed The League of Shadows- brought alongside many responsibilities that left Damian to learn by himself. The matters of what was required of him with a last name of Al Ghul had kept him isolated.

  
However, the curiosity and youthfulness of his years had driven him to find out who his father was, discovering that he was indeed a child born from two very powerful vampires. The lack of knowledge provided for him during the years when he grew up with his mother caused an even bigger gap in their relationship and had compromised his loyalties. All of that led to him living in Gotham City, home to the one known as The Bat.  
  
Bruce Wayne, Damian’s biological father, was a very powerful and wealthy man. Both of those qualities having been built up from living for about 200 years now. He was no ordinary vampire, given that he was the oldest in the city and the most powerful. He had held the title of Master of the City for a few decades now. Whatever supernatural business was going on, he was always a part of. And unlike many old vampires, he held the belief that coinciding with humanity was ideal for a better world.  
  
For a time, Damian had learned -like any other vampire- that they were held in higher regard than the human race. Crime was to be stopped through killing the humans that plagued the Earth, but when accumulating information about his father; reading up on him, studying him, and learning about him, he had come to realize that his thoughts did not truly side with his mother’s and grandfather’s, hence leading him to leave in the first place. He was also tempted to get closer to his father, a man with prestige and the willpower to change the world as best he could with minimal killing of humans.  
  
However vampires and were-animals, as well as a few humans, did not see eye-to-eye with this view and went to the extremes of harming those that wanted change.  
  
Damian was not a normal vampire. He was never bitten and changed. He had the capability to age and stop at a certain point. He craved blood as much as the next, but never truly went through the red-visioned cravings that newly made vampires went through. He was a babe born of a vampire mother and father, raised as a normal baby and only fed with blood from his mother’s breast, rather than milk. He could age like any other human, growing every year, but not much could be predicted when he reached later adulthood. His most precarious trait was that he could fall dead at a much later time, hours past sunrise, which spoke volumes on how much untouched power he held, making him fearful within the vampire community, sometimes even more feared than his father.  
  
This was because he was the first to be born from parents of vampire lineage.  
  
When Damian had walked up upon the steps of his father’s mansion for the first time, he had been a boy of 15 and accompanied by his father’s butler and supposedly long time companion: Alfred Pennyworth. The old man was adequate enough to be around and Damian could see why his father needed the human around, considering their history.  
  
Meeting his father was not something that Damian could have ever prepared for. Perhaps the way that his father was talked about, as if placed on a high pedestal where everyone would look up at. Unattainable to those that were not as powerful as he. Even though he thought himself worthy of his mother and grandfather -to a certain point- his father was something else. The man was almost god-like from the stories that he heard.  
  
However, in person, he just seemed so…ordinary. Maybe it was due to how everyone had to one-up another person, since winning his grandfather’s favor was the ultimate goal within the League of Shadows. Bruce’s demeanor was entirely different, aside from the skepticism, even after Damian handed him a letter written and signed in his mother’s hand as proof, his reluctance to house Damian was short-lived as soon as his animal-to-call, Richard -call me Dick- Grayson, realized what relation he had with Bruce.  
  
Out of the people who lived at Wayne Manor, Grayson was the one who made it out of his way to engage the young Wayne within the first week. Uncomfortable as it was, the only plausible explanation for the persistent hugs was the fact that he was a wereleopard. He had heard that all were-animals were susceptible to touch, enjoying physical contact all the time (and very comfortable with their nudity).   
  
 _For God’s sake, have you ever heard of pants?_  
  
It wasn’t news to Damian, but all the wereanimals that his grandfather owned hadn’t ever hugged -much less latched on to- another person in front of him, nor had they used Damian as their plush toy.  
  
To have Grayson cuddle him into his chest, even though they were about the same height, was a nuisance, but slightly understandable. The man was an idiot, or at least, that’s what Damian made him out to be, and the fact that he was his father’s lover was…interesting enough. If his father thought the man was worthy of his attention, then Grayson was worth the sparing trust Damian had. Not to mention that he was the Nimir-Raj of the pard (alpha male of the wereleopards), and was able to hold his own without a Nimir-Ra (alpha female), which was an extraordinary feat.  
  
Drake, however, was someone that irked Damian right from the start. Just the way he looked, the way he had held out his hand in a commoner’s handshake, that condescending, “I’m so much better than you” smirk had struck Damian to the core, and ever since then they had started off with lashing insults as a means of communication. To add to their bitter rivalry, the fact that this person was his father’s human servant was laughable. In fact, he had roared with laughter for a good moment when informed, only to be told that it was true. Saying that he was disappointed in his father’s choice in that human was not enough. Aside from being vocal, his contempt with the older man was enough of a clue for the idiot that liking him was not going to be an option. But his knowledge on whether or not his father and Grayson were also sleeping with him was unattainable. It was hard to distinguish simply because the role of a human servant was to solely represent their human master in the daytime. And that meant taking care of the family’s successful business while his father lay dead in bed.  
  
Another reason to dislike Drake was the company he brought over to the manor. One of them was a girl by the name of Stephanie Brown. Her bubbly personality was one he was not used to, but after awhile he was told that she had been recently changed. She had been a victim of a rogue wereleopard attack, and later found out it was her father’s doing. As Nimir-Ra, it was Grayson’s duty to take care of his own. And whenever Grayson was busy, she was left to her own devices which led to her and Drake becoming close friends. After all that she had been through, there was no trace of any trauma at all.   
  
Damian’s first year living in his father’s manor was interesting enough. The fact that he had to learn to build proper relationships with this strange gathering of people led to hearin stories, good and bad once he was deemed somewhat likeable.  
  
Among those stories, he had discovered there was three more that are a part of this group. There was Barbara Gordon, the daughter of the Comissioner. Right around the time Grayson had gained leadership of his pard, she had been left for dead in her father’s apartment from a werehyena attack, but miracuously survived for a cost. She had alreay been acquainted with Bruce and Grayson with her knowledge on working with computers, helping with the company’s data issues nd such and once they had been notified there had been no hesitation to take care of her.  
  
During his yearly stay she had been touring around the country speaking out to the government about attacks and what could be done for extra preventive measures as well as find equality for all preternatural and supernatural beings, helping Bruce spread his belief.  
  
From some of the interviews that Gordon had partaken in, Damian had noticed that a woman was always accompanying her, stoic and armed (though not visibly as not to get the general public rowdy). He was fascinated by her prescence, reminding him of the stature that the League of Shadows had, no doubt trained as well -if not better- than him.  
  
When he questioned about her, he was told that she is the daughter of the one known as David Cain, a very dangerous assassin that Damian was very well aware of. She had been trained to be the perfect assassin for both humans and supernatural beings by reading body language alone. The rest, he had heard from his mother and from his trainers. She had choosen not to continue on that path, instead looked to his father and Gordon for guidance and walked along the parh as body guard for the family. There had been a certain point where she had gone out on her own and had turned back to the darkside, earning the title ‘The One That is All’, a legend during her reign. But some truth had worked out and she now accompanied Gordon with ease, but still with the eyes of a skilled killer.  
  
He was gravely intrigued by her, from her short hair barely brushing the shoulders of her suit to the stillness of her body, ready to counterattack thise that dare harm her companion.  
  
Cassandra Cain. A complete wonder to Damian.  
  
It was during his second year of staying there that these two women decided to come back home. By then he was completely infatuated much to the amusement of Grayson and his father and trepidation from Drake. Brown was only exasperated with it, but didn’t say much on it.  
  
When he saw her for the first time, she was at the foot of the stairs with a winning smile across her face while burried under both Drake and Brown’s arms. While Gordon and Grayson were locked in an embrace as well.  
  
The first greeting exchanged between them was accompanied with a proper introduction made by Grayson. Her closed mouth smile broke the enchantment she held over him, how he practically worshipped that hard exterior of hers. It exposed her softer side, one that he had not imagined at all, and it left him stunned while they shook hands.  
  
"Hello."  
  
That simple word, tinged with assuredness, as if practiced in that tone rather than something he couldn’t place his mind on. His own response held his pride, and somehow earned a tiny smirk from her lips while her eyes steadily drank him in. It had taken him a moment to realize she was reading him and found that amusing. Surprisingly it was embarassment that hit him rather than the usual resentment that came along when someone found him amusing. He was unprepared to cover that up and was a second too late for she saw and chuckled lightly, squeezing his hand before she releases their grip and turned to engage Grayson in conversation.  
  
Damian had begrudgingly took the whole ordeal in silence. It was Gordon that was rhe only one who took notice and found her own entertainment from the whole thing, patting his shoulder as she passed him to follow everyone else to Bruce’s study.  
  
After that Cassandra was appointed to accompany Damian from that point on, which she took with ease. He, on the otherhand, had a harder time accepting that, up until he was caught in an ambush that left him severely injured for days.  
  
It took awhile to get used to it, but he soon got over his childish behavior and finally accepted her presence at least a friendly level and at most comforting.  
  
But she certainly wasn’t the last member of this family. Unlike her this one was mysteriously absent, gone with no trace except for the painful memories that Grayson and his father kept locked inside, Gordon kept her lips shut tight as Drake spat nonsense when questioned, and it didn’t help that Cassandra nor Brown had ever met this person.  
  
Truth be told, Damian only ever met this person a few weeks after he turned 18. Three years later after he came to stay at the manor.

 


	2. Dancing We Must

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Damian decides that after a frustrating meeting with his father, he and Cassandra must go out to let off some steam.

There are councils that are held, traditions to be kept up with, and honor and respect distributed throughout. It is a tireless feat to keep this up and Damian states as much to Cassandra when a meeting regarding the victims of the multiple vampire attacks on the Gotham bridges.

What the general public does not know is what type of conflict arises within the mysterious world that Damian and his family live in. While there are battles to fight against a government still opposed to letting vampires and wereanimals live among humans, there are those in the darkness that want to live how they did in the old days. Vampires, enemies of his father, especially.

"Father needs to understand that allowing the police to handle this may be too much. We need to take this into our own hands," he voices out as he and Cassandra, his body guard and companion of about a year now walk down the hallway to his room.

She follows him with ease, even though she is a good three inches shorter now. “In time," she answers fondly, “Dick and Tim convince him."

"By that time more humans will add to this growing list of victims."

"Bruce will think better."

"Whatever he comes up with be damned." He undoes his tie and throws it across the room with a lot more force than necessary, exasperated beyond belief.

Taking part in his father’s issues had been a recent development. The fact that he was even given the chance to have his opinions help his father make a decision was mind boggling, and after vying for that type of acknowledgement for two years still amazes Damian. The sudden change of the time of his awakening every night was a strength that even his father could not ignore. But on something like this it shouldn’t even be discussed about.

He shuffles backwards with discomfort, brow furrowed as he is lost in thought while something deep inside him makes him clear his throat. Cassandra sits beside him, drawing him up with a distinct tug before moving her hair to one shoulder and taking out a knife after Damian settled into a comfortable position next to her.

"Drink."

It isn’t until she says that does he realize how long he’s had to hold it in. The discussion had lasted from the time he woke up till now. A good four hours. This is one of the many things he is grateful for from Cassandra. Never mind her skill to read the slightest movement of body language, but the fact that they’ve been together this long and her ability to figure out his tells brings a sort of comfort to him. A great amount of trust he lays upon her, to which she has never broken.

Damian reaches up with both hands and grasps her neck to pull her towards him. With his thumb, he nudges her jaw until her head is tilting upward right as he aligns his mouth over the day old, twin puncture wounds there. Out of habit, he presses his lips to each one. An apology he gives her every time he has to take from her.

His last meal had been over 24 hours ago, so his enthusiasm as he sinks his teeth into her warm, pale skin is unrestrained. It’s almost intoxicating, allowing her life force to drain, flood his mouth, and flow down his throat. He knows his swallowing is audible, and he almost feels sorry for not charming her to at least make this pleasurable…. Even though she has told him not to countless times, he still regrets making her go through this pain. The unbearable thirst recedes significantly until he forces himself to pull away. It’s the bare necessity.

Cassandra’s fingers reach down to rub at the rivulets that had started to form, mindlessly tracing it, knowing how much the act tempts him. They both know he won’t accept the offering for more, just as he had done countless times before. If she was capable of doing so, she would be his source of fuel every day, but she wasn’t, just as a normal human’s body should be.

Damian pulls out a silk handkerchief and presses it gently over the wounds silently.

"A waste," she states softly, reaching up to touch her bloodied fingertips to his lips. He licks at them, but doesn’t move to clean them entirely.

"It would be a waste to drain you, Cassandra. No one else is suitable to be with me."

At that she grins before taking hold of the silk so she could stand up on her own. “Spoiled boy."

It’s a fond name for him, considering she is the only one who is capable of calling him that without consequences. He rises, looking out the wide window, “Wash up and we shall go out to enjoy the night this evening."

xXx

Father’s choice in frequented nightclubs were a bore sometimes. And did nothing for him, when he was unable to taste nor drink the delectable treats of humans. Quite frankly, his father had the ability to taste them due to his special links to Grayson and Drake.

It was irritating. The only fun he could ever have was the easy nature of his own human companion. Watching her twist and sway with the music was a refreshing sight though. Here they can both try to let go as much as possible, with no fear of holding up status and duties. Here she can dance away and taste the bubbly, fruity drinks provided at the bar while he was the one to sit to the side and guard her for a change.

The smell of sweat and smoke and pleasure rolls through him, getting his senses drunk on purely those scents.

Damian shifts, trying to dislodge the trollop that made it her mission to attach herself to his arm in his booth. He had the unfortunate luck of being recognized tonight, which made the events of tonight’s council meeting that much more harder to ignore due to her constant badgering about his status.

"Come on, Damian. We can go somewhere more quiet, and maybe I can offer you a little _something_  too."

Well, that was the only reason he tolerated the dumb brunette in the first place. But no way in the seven rings of hell would he go somewhere with her alone. This was a supernatural friendly club after all.

Damian casts his eyes in Cassandra’s direction, making sure she was alright. Her current dance partner was certainly the grabby type, but the thing the teen liked about this club was that the majority of the club’s patrons were not afraid to protect a fellow clubber if there was any trouble.

He turns his head to look back at…Molly, flashing one of his award winning grins at her before gently detaching her claws from his person to stand up. The whining is just enough to make the boy want to rip her throat out in place for the sound of something better, like her blood gushing out.

He shakes his head, breathing in slowly and counting silently, before giving her a slow smile while suppressing his need to harm the woman. The curtain that was hanging from the side of the booth flickers closed, just as it’s pair does the same from the other side.

"Perhaps doing it here would be a lot better, yes?"

"Oh…well," her attempt at a sly smile is something that needs more work.

"By your permission?" Damian asks suggestively before he opens his mouth as a way to clue her on his attentions.

The woman’s giggle grates on his nerves, nodding vigorously, when he attempts to sit back down. He encircles her, hunching his tall frame over her willing one and charms her. Eyes glossing over and mouth going shut, he becomes thankful that she doesn’t say anything else. He takes a hand, turning it palm upwards before lowering his mouth on her wrist, not hesitating when his fangs sink in easily.

The gasp is sharp, but he ignores it, drinking in his fill. He takes it all in large gulps, feeling himself getting giddy and dizzy. It gets to a point where he pulls away with a scowl as his vision blurs a bit.

He pushes her away unceremoniously, her body having gone slack from passing out, either from the pleasure or the alcohol.

He makes to flick the curtains back open, and then a sudden head pang has him clutching his head in his hands to try and cope with the feeling. It’s far different from drinking the blood of someone who had far too much to drink. That only made him feel what a human would call tipsy. This, however, was far more intense. It was as if he was feeling faint, on the verge of blacking out. The familiar feeling of calloused fingers turning his face upwards gets a pained groan from him, eyes shutting in pain as something sharp knocks the inner walls of his skull multiple times.

He tries to call out to Cassandra and tell her what exactly he’s going through, but can’t.

The only thing he hears -through the heavy bass of the club music- is a muttered “Shit," before fully blacking out.

 


End file.
